


Pure As A Lamb

by thisismidnight



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alley Blow Jobs, Angst, Face-Fucking, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Inexperience, age gap, gay porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-25 14:54:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18576769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisismidnight/pseuds/thisismidnight
Summary: From the outside, Walter O'Brien was always seen as delicate, pure and the embodiment of holiness. They see his mop of black locks; his smooth skin; and his gentle blue eyes, thinking he is an angel. However, on the inside, Walter's mind is corrupted with sexual thoughts, craving for a man's touch. And one day, Walter grows tired his innocent facade and goes to a gay bar.





	Pure As A Lamb

**Author's Note:**

> This is also published on my WP account, I just want to clear that up in case somebody got confused

Outwardly, many saw Walter O'Brien as pure as lamb—the model student teachers adored; the perfect child others aspired to be or envy; the good son who obeyed his parents, unflinching, drowning out his sinful desires.

Nobody really took a moment to see Walter, only what they projected him to be. He was an empty canvas and multiple strangers painted on him, crafting an image to appeal with their wants and desires. His feelings didn't matter. They never did and they never will. His mother and father made sure to remind him.

Perhaps, that was why he dreamed for a lustful wolf to devour him, purge out all the innocence inside him. Perhaps, that was why when one day he found a flyer for a gay club on the ground he picked it up and kept it in his pocket. Perhaps, that was why he was here, staring into the wormhole of neon lights, singing to him—come little lamb, come closer.

The bar contrasted the overall, bleak and dingy state of alleyway—ridden with rodents; vandalised with graffiti on brick walls; stewed in a pool of darkness; and swamped with soggy heaps of used condoms, plastic bags and trash. Walter stared up at the sign, glowing a fiery amber—GARDEN OF LUST, it said.

The sign imprinted itself in his eyes, the font growing bigger and bigger—GARDEN OF LUST, GARDEN OF LUST, GARDEN OF LUST, it looped in his head. 'Where an angel can kiss a demon without consequence,' was often the tag line for the bar seen in its flyers.

As he stood there, watching a mix of young and adult men enter in alone and exit out with a hookup, the image of mother's face warped with disgust clung to back of his mind. Already, his father's stern, icy voice boomed in his mind.

He was already dirty, unworthy, foul before he entered inside. Stepping in would make no difference. He'd thought of it, someone corrupting him, using him like he was some sort of sex toy. And that was what mattered the most—the thoughts. Even if he ran now, his sexual appetite would fester, darker, hotter—he couldn't escape it.

The entrance to the bar called to him again, drawing him like a moth to a flame as it sang to him-come little lamb, come closer. Don't you wanna a taste of heaven? Don't you wanna be free?

Walter licked his bottom lip and breezed through the security, knowing that once he entered the taste of heaven wouldn't be easily forgotten. A blinding swirl of neon lights bathed the nightclub, setting a watery, magenta gleam on Walter's skin.

Under his black fringe, he scanned around for a seat, jostling through the sweaty bodies pressed up against him, gyrating their waist to the body-thumping music. His pulse raced faster as he swam through the sea of people, ignoring the bodily odour pervading his lungs.

Everything was too much: the thundering music, the overcrowded music, the haze of booze, sweat and sex drifting in the air. He felt like a lamb, packed in a room trapped with wolves. And while his muscles tensed and a icy coldness twisted his bowels, there was a layer that laid under this. A warm glow expanding throughout his body.

His nerves tingled and a hot giddiness drunken his senses. Deep down, he wanted this, to escape the mundane life and surrender himself into the nightlife: drinking liquor, dancing with strangers, doing dirty things his parents would never approve of—touching a man.

Soon enough, he found himself in front of a bartender, sitting on a barstool with rosy cheeks, realising that now he was here he had no idea what to order. Unlike his seventeen years old peer he'd never drank before.

His mother fearing he would become just like his brother. A deadbeat, a drunkard, a deterrent to the family name. And so, Walter being their only saving grace, was forced to stay away from drugs, especially alcohol.

"Are you gunna order a drink?"

Walter blinked, staring up at the bartender. He opened his mouth, but his words didn't take flight. Finally, his opportunity to taste alcohol had arrived and he was absolutely clueless. Should he just say he'll have water? "Uh, erm... I—"

"—he'll have a wine spritzer."

His head turned to the direction of the velvety, low voice husky with a light brogue rolling off his tongue and stared at the source of those words—a tall, well-groomed man around his mid-thirties wearing a grey-striped blazer and a black turtleneck.

His face was round and had leathery tan, complimenting the red stubble speckled his strong jawline. In the neon gleam, it was difficult to tell the shade of his plume of hair slicked back with gel; however, Walter's eyes painted it a warm, red auburn tinged with wisps of silver, accentuating the blue in his eyes. "I hope you don't mind that I order that drink for you," the nameless man said.

Walter shook his head frantically, lowering his head. "N-no, not at all! Thank you, really," he replied, admiring his rugged features from his under his black fringe.

He smirked, deepening the wrinkles gathering at the corners of his eyes. "Ah, that's good to hear."

A long pause hung between them, letting the sound of the music fill their eardrums before the bartender return with his drinks and the dissolved into the haze of other drunken patrons. Walter cupped the drink in his hand, whiffing in the pleasing scent.

"That wine is pretty light," the man said, probably trying to make small talk.

"Oh, it is?"

The man nodded, leaning close towards him. "I made sure it was since you never drank before."

Walter flushed. "Am I that obvious?"

"Very."

Walter looked down at his drink, taking a large sip. It tasted sweet.

"Do you like it?"

Walter gave a curt nod, gulping down the drink in large quantities until the glass was empty. The man leaned close to his face, drowning his senses under the thick scent of cologne. His warm breath ghosted over his quivering lips as his heart thumped against his ribs. The man brushed away the dribble of wine from the corner of his lips with his thumb and licked it. "I can see why you like it. Its sweet, just like you."

Blood rushed to his face. Walter shifted his gaze, mentally scowling himself for thinking that he would do something more intimate, craving for his lips to touch his own... The man turned to bartender, asked him for another drink and in a minute, he returned with the same drink Walter had drank, only there was two this time.

The man slid one drink over to him, grasping the other in his hand. "Did you c'mere alone?"

"Yeah, I'm not the best with people."

"Still, I'm surprise most people don't wanna go with a sweetling like you."

Walter squirmed in his seat, his gaze downcast as he sipped the alcoholic beverage, unsure how to respond. As he downed the wine, his vision started to shift and the music became more louder than before. He knew, by this point, this was probably due to the liquor.

The booming music came in waves, threatening to crush him under it. His breath, smelling of wine, invaded his senses as he continued drinking and drinking before the man slid him over a third drink and gulped that down too.

"Slow down there, sweetling." The man leaned on his palm, staring right at him half-turned in his seat, his eyes peering into his bones.

And with newfound courage—maybe it was from his curiosity, maybe it was from the liquor taking its toll on him—Walter raised his, meeting those eyes. There was a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he watched him downing the wine, but he didn't miss the layer of desire in those pools, studying the curves in his body.

And Walter knew it was no trick of light—the man made no attempt to mask his hunger and even smirked, knowing caught sight of it. The man placed his hand on his thigh, massaging the inner calves. Again, his breath grazed along his skin, hovering against the shell of his ears. "Say sweetling, have you ever sucked cock before?"

He shook his head.

"Really? You have one of the nicest pair of lips I've ever seen. I'm surprised no one tried fucking it." His grip tightened. "Do you wanna try sucking mine?"

His heart drummed even louder as bulge started to form in his jeans, strangling him. His mouth went dry and he wasn't sure it was from the drunken haze or arousal. Maybe, it was both. "I... I don't know."

"I see, I don't want to force you into anything."

As the man stood up, Walter grabbed the men of his blazer on impulse, unaware of what he'd done until the man halted dead in his tracks and glimpsed over his shoulder. "You need something?"

"I... its not that I don't want to it, I just..."

"It's your first time?"

The pulse in his veins thrummed, echoing in his ears. He gripped onto his blazer tighter, nodding his head. The man watched him, silent, before he stepped towards him and closed the distance between them and smiled. "Don't worry sweetling, I'll be gently with you, I promise."

Walter wasn't sure if it was alcohol or his own thirst, but he nodded his head, agreeing to something he never thought he would ever do in his life, agreeing to rebel against his mother and father. He stumbled to his feet and before he collapse to his knees, the man wrapped his arm around his waist.

Flushed, Walter clung to the man as he led him through the wave of drunkards, dancers and bodies compressed against them, basking in his aromatic cologne. Once they exited the club, the breeze burrowed through his fabric, rattling his bones as they ventured deep into the mouth of the backstreet.

He didn't know where he was in the alleyway, only that it was far, far away from the blinding lights; from the intense music; from people. The man paused and released his clutch on Walter's waist before he locked eyes with him. "Kneel," he said. His tone soft, but firm.

Walter swallowed the lump in his throat and crouched down to his knees. The man touched his cheek and brought him close facing the outline of his hard-on visible through his pants. With trembling hands, he undid the fly of his pants, before he was face to face with the eager cock protruding through his underwear.

A hot, wet desire pooled in his loins at the sight of it. Walter tucked his fingers under the elastic and slowly unwrapped the gift in front of him. The man's cock sprung free, bobbing against his ivory face. He choked out a yelp, earning a low, guttural chuckle from the man. "Are you surprise, sweetling?"

Walter nodded tentatively, merely gaping at the size of him, wondering if this could even fit in his mouth.

The man smirked, running a thumb over his bottom row of teeth. "Just relax, sweetling and don't tense up, okay? All you have to do is take me in your mouth."

Walter nodded again, cupping his erection in his one clammy hand. As he stared at it, his father's voice reemerged like an unforgiving spectre, spitting foul words in his ears and not sensuous type.

It was dark and callous kind, digging into one's bones like knives. It was icy and venomous kind, burying one in their own shame. It was the sharp and piercing ones, stabbing one deep in the gut where it really burned.

The blunt head of his cock pressed against Walter's pomegranate lips, nudging him to open his mouth. "C'mon sweetling, I know you want me inside that pretty trap of yours," the man said, his tone slurred as he stared with heavy-lidded eyes, darkened with lust.

Walter whimpered at the words and his trousers tightened. A throbbing sensation burned in his crotch, stirring an aching desire in his loins. He'd always craved to do this, picturing how it felt to have a cock in his mouth. At times, alone in his room, he pushed his own fingers down his throat, pretending it was something he thought he could never have until now.

Leaning closer, he parted his lips and poked out his tongue, licking the crown of his stiff erection, knowing regret would be back tomorrow to haunt him all over again. In the silent moments when he laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling fans or when he snuck back to his home. It would seep to the foreground of his mind, taunting him, mocking him. And he would have no choice to succumb to it.

The red-haired man chuckled, patting his mane of midnight curls. "No need to be shy sweetling, won't you take in more for me?"

A scarlet glow flooded his milky, translucent skin and Walter nodded, becoming more bold in his approach. His wet, pink tongue swirled around the head, lapping the wet slit of his prick before he started licking, pressing moist kisses along his shaft, coating it in saliva.

The hot, dampness of his tongue drew heavy grunts from the man as his cold, wrinkled fingers threaded through his tousled curls, patting it. He cupped Walter's cheek with his free hand, humming in approval. "Yes... oh, yes sweetling, just like that."

Walter continued, unrelenting, trailing kisses and lapping down his cock before he seperated his mouth from his lips, panting. His jaw clenched at the thought swallowing his dick, whole. Not licking and kissing it as he had seconds prior. He was sure he had to relax his jaw further to allow the man's dick to slide in, but his mind wouldn't stop racing, panicking. What if he started gagging on it? What if he ended up vomiting all over it? He didn't even wish to picture it.

And yet, he didn't want to half-ass, so he sucked, hard, sloppily, eagerly, the man's member occasionally slipped out of his mouth, earning a chuckled from him. "Aren't you cute?" He patted his hair as though he was a pet before his eyes almost drooped shut and his jaw fell agape, groaning.

He wrapped his mouth around an inch of the man's length, craning his body forward. It was bigger than his finger, he noted and silky warm, moist with sweat and a thin layer of pre-cum dripping from the tip. "God, you're natural. Are you sure you haven't done this before?" The sound of grunts and groans filled his eardrums. "Fuck, your mouth feels so warm, sweetling."

Walter moaned against the moist foreskin, muffled and deformed, as palmed the bulging erection straining in his own jeans. He continued, suckling noisily, moving in a clumsy pace as he took in more of cock, ballooning his sharp cheeks. The man smirked, tilted his chin up. "You look so good like this, sweetling, taking in my fat cock."

Walter whimpered at his words and unzipped his own trousers, slipping his hand into his boxers as his head bobbed, sucking the pulsing cock elongating in his mouth. He stroked his himself, shuddering at the cold fingers trailing up and down his veiny member. Goosebumps trailed against his body.

Walter flushed and then continued. His tongue worked their way along his erection, tightening the pressure around the head of the man's dick who visibly shuddered, head knocking back against the graffiti wall. He moaned around the length of the man and bobbed his head a few times, tightening the suction of his lips, feeling pre-cum dribbling over his tongue.

The man stroked his cheek, guiding his movements as he sucked hard and slow, staring up at him with big earnest eyes. His Adam's Apple trembled as he moved further down his length in a sloppy, sliding up and down motion until he reached the base of his cock. The man gripped his curls tighter, his knees buckling as he panted, his chest swelling up and down with every shallow inhale. He started to rock his hips, dancing thrusts and shoving his cock back in Walter's mouth.

Walter caressed his cock at the sight of the older man, groaning, studying his kneeling frame with a drunken haze of lust, want. The man desired for him, craving for him like how a drug addict needed a drug and suffered from withdrawal symptoms without it. His nerves tingled, letting a surge of adrenaline pump through his skin in loud booms. His heart hammered, pounding against his rib cage, echoing in his own eardrums.

He sucked deeper, then deeper. The dark patch of pubes tickled his nose as he bobbed his head, feeling the blunt tip of his prick pressing against the roof of his mouth, sliding further down his throat. He gagged and before he could catch his breath, the man's fingers dug into his scalp, holding him there, thrusting his hips into the back of his throat. His eyes widened as his big, fat cock slid deeper and deeper his throat. I can't breathe, I can't breathe, I can't—

—tears welled up in his eyes before Walter screwed therm shut, letting the rivulets roll down his cheeks. His lungs burned, ached. Walter continued swallowing his cock whole, his nose now squished in the bush of black pubes, inhaling his musky scent and he stroked himself, faster, blinded by a wave of pleasure. The taste of pre-cum lingered on his tongue, deepening the man's groans into husky growls.

His fingernails sank in further as the man yanked a clump of locks, groaning, rolling his hips. His jaw ached, slackening with every forceful thrust slamming into his mouth, choking on the man's dick. He continued deepthroating, moving in a sloppy, erratic pace.

The man tightened his grip, clutching the back of his head, rolling his hips, ramming himself deep into mouth, making his cheeks swollen from sucking him length. "Fuck..." The man groaned. "Yes... oh, yes sweetling, just like that. Yes. God, you're good. So eager, aren't you?"

The vibrations of his whimpers and moan made his prick hardened and stiffened even further in his mouth. For a solid minute, the man took full charge, tugging at the hair at the back of his head; thrusting his hips; face-fucking his pretty mouth, harder then harder, again and again until air barely filtered through Walter's lungs.

The man sped up the rhythm and held him in place with a strong grip, dragging obscene, wet sounds from Walter. "Fuck you're sensitive," the man murmured as he rammed him back and forth, choking, pushing into him further, exploring the depths of his throat. "And so tight."

Walter's head spun with a dizzy desire. He whimpered, smothered and low, rubbing his prick with slippery hands, coated in a sticky, white fluid, trying to keep up with the man's pace. He gave his erection firm strokes, continuously staring up at the grunting man, mouth-full, under his thick lashes. His dark, blue eyes peered into him as he mentally undressed him, peeling every layer of clothes sticking to his sweaty body.

The man pulled him back, panting, spraying semen on his face. His lips twisted into a smirk at the sight of Walter: white visage flushed a smouldering red; hot, white fluid dripping down his face; spit dribbling from his chin; his bouncy black curls dangling in clumps as he planted for air; and his pink lips raw and swollen. A mess.

A heavy feeling sat in his chest, seizing his heart in a deadly grip. What he had done he could not undo. He could make amends in subtle ways, but confession was out of the question, especially to his parents. He was now dirty, inpure and vile. So vile. 

The man zipped up his trouser and tossed a glance at him. "What's your name?"

"Walter," he replied, panting.

"Walter..." He tested the name on his tongue and then smiled. "Call me Lain." He placed a white card with his phone number written on it before he left him stranded in the alleyway.

Walter gulped a mouthful of air and rubbed the cum staining his lips, wishing he had soap to scrub the taste of his semen. Yet it lingered, and he loved it. He squeezed his eyes shut and stroked himself, picturing Lain's rugged face, telling himself: it's cause I drank too much, it's cause I drank too much, it's cause I—

—before he came fast and sticky in his pants. And when he zipped up his trousers and shoved the card in his pocket, shame stuck to him like an ugly scar.

 

一Fin.


End file.
